


The Killing Moon

by octopizzy



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infidelity, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Work, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopizzy/pseuds/octopizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris meets Garrett Hawke under strange circumstances, and finds himself instantly smitten with the charming, handsome stranger. Too bad he's already taken.</p><p> </p><p>1. This isn't an Anders Hate Fic<br/>2. This isn't a Fenhanders fic nor will it end up in it</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worked Better In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Fenris is a little out of character but only because he is slightly drunk. And we all know he gets flirty and overshares when he's drunk. That's one of my favorite things about him! He's such an intelligent, soft spoken, calm boy but he starts drinking and becomes the worst flirty goofus  
> 

It wasn’t my first barfight by a longshot, but it was the first one where someone stood up for me. For whatever ridiculous reason, be it the color of my skin, the full body tattoos, or even just my bloody “negative aura” as V put it, people tended to assume I was the aggressor. It wasn’t far from the truth seeing as I was usually the one to throw the first punch, but I never did it without reason. There’s only so many times I can say no before I assume the only way they’ll understand is with my fist in their face. 

This one had started out just like any other: I was sitting quietly at the end of the bar, hard liquor in one hand and a book in the other, when I was approached by a group of men, lead by a stocky blonde. I had heard them being loud and rowdy at a table behind me, probably discussing some sport and the tits on the waitress, but I had ignored them and kept to myself, as always. I encountered men like them often enough, no matter what language they spoke or what country I was in. Unfortunately, there will always be entitled males with too much testosterone and something to prove.

“So the lads and I have been wonderin’, you a member of some gang or somethin’?” The blonde leaned over the counter on his elbow, getting into my personal space. Strike one. “See I said you’re probably one of them kinky mother fuckers who gets off on needles being jammed into them, but Dan back there pointed out you 'aven't got no metal in your face.”

I continued to look down at my book, pausing only to take a sip of my drink. My number one defense mechanism was to ignore idiots, and it worked a large amount of the time. Most people were too lazy to provoke me further, realizing that if they weren’t going to get their response the first time, why bother at all. This seemed to bother the blonde, however. 

“Oi, snowy, I’m talkin’ to ya’!” he spat at me, his fist slamming down on the bar. I raised my head slightly and took the bait, knowing there was no stopping it now. This kid had to prove he was the alpha male to everyone in this bar.

“Yes?” I looked him up and down, quickly taking in his physique -solidly built- and how many exactly were in his group all together -six-. I could take six. 

“I said, you a member of some gang or somethin’?” I could smell the cheap beer on his breath as he twisted his body over me. Strike two. “Or are you some kinky sicko?”

I honestly wasn’t about to grace that question with an answer. Instead, I downed the rest of my drink and shut my book, preparing to leave. Blondie was having none of that. 

“Tsk tsk trying to disrespect me and my mates, is ya?” he shook his head and his “mates” laughed. They sounded like a group of elephant seals. I reached into my pocket and counted out a few bills to pay for my drink plus a hearty tip for the bartender for what was about to happen. Blondie continued to attempt to weed a response out of me, “Because now I’m definitely leaning towards the sicko.” The elephant seals guffawed, slapping each other on the backs. I hopped off of my stool and slid the wad of cash to the bartender, thanking him for his services. Someone at the other end of the bar mirrored my movements, but I couldn’t see them properly due to the herd of idiots in between us. I frowned; six drunk idiots I could take, but a seventh wild card?

“Goodnight gentlemen,” I murmured, adjusting my jacket and turning to leave. I had only taken a few steps before the heavy footsteps of Blondie and the seals followed me, and I could feel someone’s hand attempting to latch onto my left arm along with the slurred words, “Where do you think you’re fuckin’ goin’ faggot?” 

Strike three.

Before he could even close his sweaty fingers around my bicep, I had swiveled around, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking his outstretched arm down over my knee. There was a sickening crack and then the entire bar went silent except for Blondie’s screams. I used the alcohol induced daze the rest of the men were in to mentally and physically prepare myself for the onslaught. The first meaty fist appeared in my line of sight and everything suddenly went into slow motion. I ducked the careless right hook and sunk my fist into the man’s soft, fleshy abdomen, just below his ribcage. As the first man hunched over, clutching his stomach, I blocked another haphazard punch on my left side, weaving out of the way and using my elbow to drive into the aggressor’s left kidney. Three down, three more to go. One of the men, the one Blondie had called “Dan,” lunged at me with a bit more thought than his friends, his knuckles meeting my face with more force than I was prepared for and I was knocked down onto the floor. I was then hoisted up by my jacket collar, and I readied myself for the assault that never came. 

Instead, both “Dan” and I were distracted by what appeared to be the two other men hitting the floor with immense force, their skulls banging against the beer-stained wood slats. Before I had a chance to comprehend what took them down, Dan was yanked back from me by a tall, well-built man I barely recognized as the stranger from the other end of the bar. I watched in fascination and disbelief as the stranger proceeded to knee Dan in the gut and backhand him so hard across his face that I swore I could see teeth fly out of his mouth. The force of his hit sent dan skidding across the floor to land right in front of my feet, slack-jawed and bleeding. The large stranger casually stepped towards me, twisting his neck and shrugging his shoulders, appearing to shake off the fight. 

“You alright, mate?” a deep, masculine voice asked me. My eyes traveled up from his worn black work boots and blue jeans -admittedly lingering on how they clung to thick, muscled thighs- to the broad chest and shoulders covered in red plaid, to the head of thick dark hair and equally thick, dark beard, before finally resting on a pair of whiskey colored eyes. I quickly averted my gaze as I tried to focus on anything but those thighs. 

“I-um, yes,” I managed to sputter out, eventually settling on staring at the dark grey t-shirt he wore under the flannel, trying to make out the image printed across the front. 

“Hey,” I jumped back as I realized the image -and the man- moved closer to me, “Really, are you alright?” 

Suddenly I realized there was warm blood trickling down my face and my nose was throbbing. Shit. 

“I think he broke my nose,” I grumbled, pinching the bridge in between my fingers. The stranger let out a big, booming laugh that I felt in my groin.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding,” he grinned, his accent distinctly Ferelden now that I could properly place it. A large hand reached towards my face. “Do you mind if I take a look at it?” He saw how I instinctively shied away and lowered his hand, “I’m a professional I promise, a paramedic.”

Reluctantly, I tilted my chin up and clenched my fists at my sides as I felt warm, rough fingers prod at my nose.

“It’s pretty bad, but lucky for you, I can set it,” he flashed me a warm smile, “I mean, if you want. Some guys like the broken nose look, think it makes them look tougher. Not that you need to look any more like you don’t want anyone touching you.”

“It...would be appreciated,” I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. The stranger looked around, as if remembering we were standing in the middle of a bar with six groaning men rolling around on the ground beside us. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he motioned towards the door and began to walk before stopping and letting out another one of those laughs, “Not like that! I live in one of the flats upstairs, but we can also just go into the loo. Man, you should really have someone record you during conversations because you should see the faces you make.” I scowled and he laughed even harder. “I promise I’m not some pervert, I really do want to help you out. I mean, I did just save your ass.”

“I could’ve handled it myself,” I hissed, crossing my arms over my chest, “My ass was doing just fine before you showed up.”

“You just want me to say you have a fine ass,” he winked, and I felt my cheeks burn, “To be honest, it’s probably the reason you get in so much trouble and yes, before you ask, I can definitely tell this wasn’t your first fight.”

I opened my mouth multiple times but couldn’t think of any words that didn’t make me sound like an angry toddler. 

“You are very frustrating,” I finally manager to mutter, relaxing my posture and letting out a deep breath. 

“So I’m told, quite often,” he flashed me a shit-eating grin, “So, my place, or the loo?”

“I suppose your flat would be the most sanitary option,” I reasoned, attempting to ignore the part of me that wanted to go up there only to jump his bones and show him exactly what my ass was capable of. I shuddered and bit my lip. 

“Well then, follow me my good sir,” he began to walk before stopping and turning around, “One moment.” The stranger stepped over the groaning bodies of the elephant seals and slapped a large wad of cash on the bar, apologizing to the bartender, apparently named Corf, before returning. “As you were, soldier.”

We walked out of the door into the brisk night and I watched as Hawke entered a code into the door to the right of the establishment before a beep sounded and the door opened. He beckoned for me to go in first before closing the door behind me. 

“My name is Hawke by the way,” he caught up to me on the stairwell, “Garrett Hawke. Although you can just call me Hawke, most people do.”

“Fenris,” I replied, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jacket as Hawke’s long legs strode ahead of me. We reached a door at the end of the top floor when I started to regret taking him up on his offer. As usual, I had let my sex drive get ahead of me. I had no idea who this man was, and if I could even escape if I needed to. He had proven himself to be an extremely capable fighter as well as physically intimidating. But my nose really did need medical attention, and I tried to avoid going to the hospital if at all possible, so I followed Hawke into his flat. 

“Sorry about the mess, I live with a complete organizational disaster,” I could hear Hawke say somewhere in the dark before he turned the lights on. Turns out this simple flat above a bar was huge fucking industrial loft. I mentally cursed my habit of ending up in the laps of wealthy men.

“Do you want a glass of water or something?” Hawke called out from the modern kitchen area sectioned off by a single wall, “Or more booze? Make yourself at home, by the way.”

“Booze,” I replied quickly, taking in my surroundings. I sat down on a deep blue couch in the large, open area I assumed was the main room. I felt like I was in some TV show, because there was no way anyone in real life could have the artsy loft with the brick walls that all of the alternative main characters had in dramas. Aside from the modern furniture, there were also large canvases stacked up against the wall, and paint splattered tarps. Either Hawke was lying about being a paramedic, or his roommate was an artist. 

Hawke returned a few minutes later with an ice-filled glass and a bottle of whiskey, setting them down on the glass coffee table in front of me. 

“Help yourself, but please don’t vomit and pass out on my couch,” he pleaded, “I’m going to get my super fancy first aid kit from the loo and some more ice that’s not for the drinks. Don’t get blood on anything if you can.”

As soon as he was gone, I poured myself a glass and downed it, pulling out my phone and texting Bela.

To: Sexy Beast 69 69  
Time: 10/16/DA 12:46 A.M.  
Got into another bar fight n ended up w a broken nose. Demigod/lumberjack backs me up in fight n turns out to b a paramedic n invites me up 2 his flat to fix my nose. If I dnt reply by tmrrw afternoon assume he’s kidnapped me. His name is Garrett Hawke n he lives above that one bar u luv, the hanged man or w/e. 

“Alright, let’s get that nose fixed,” I quickly sent the text and slid my phone back into my pocket as Hawke returned with a large red first aid kit and a plastic bag of ice in his arms. I watched as he opened up the kit and slid on a new pair of latex gloves. “You’re not allergic to latex, right? I mean I have non-latex gloves too.”

“No I’m good,” I smirked at how over-prepared he was. 

“Good, okay, I’m gonna need you to tilt your face up towards me and keep your head still,” Hawke had a very calming voice. I could see him as a paramedic. “Okay great. Now, Fenris, I’m going to touch your face. And it’s going to hurt pretty bad.”

“I can deal with pain,” I murmured as I felt his gloved fingers position themselves on either side of my nose.

“I never said you couldn’t,” he chuckled, “I just like to warn people before I suddenly set something broken back into place.”

“How decent of you,” I smirked. He removed one hand from my face to place over his heart.

“I’m truly a gift from the Maker, I know,” he sighed in his most dramatic voice. My stomach did a backflip. 

“Alright, would you rather me count to three or just do it while I talk?”

“Just keep talking.”

 

“I can do that,” he grinned and positioned himself in between my knees, making me become more self conscious of what was going on in my crotchal region. 

“Since you probably shouldn’t be talking right now I’ll talk about myself,” Hawke began, eyeing my injury and judging the correct amount of pressure, “I am twenty-seven years young, originally from Ferelden but I moved to Kirkwall because of the war. I have two younger siblings, a pair of fraternal twins, named Bethany and Carver. I have a Mabari named Porkchop who is currently passed out on my bed, probably dreaming about bacon. I have a f-” There was a jolt of pain as he set my nose back into place with one quick movement and I yelped, clenching my fists but I regained my composure. “There we go, the worst part’s over.”

“I’ve never been to Ferelden,” I attempted to keep the conversation going, not wanting to leave his company just yet. Hawke just smiled as he used a cotton swab and rubbing alcohol to clean the blood from my face. 

“You’re not missing much, just a lot of green fields and forests, farmers, dogs, and national pride,” he delicately placed the splint onto either side of my nose, “Where are you from? I can’t place your accent.”

“The Imperium.” Hawke let out a low whistle. “Exactly.”

“Funny enough, Kirkwall is the farthest North I’ve been,” Hawke apparently caught onto my discomfort and politely attempted to turn the conversation back to himself, “Although after experiencing Summer here, I’m almost glad I haven’t.”

“Pfft, it barely gets warm here,” I rebutted as Hawke placed the bandages on my nose, “The problem with you Southerners is that you’re bred for ridiculously cold weather.”

“That explains my body hair,” Hawke snickered and waggled his eyebrows at me. Oh fuck, I hadn’t even noticed that but now that it was brought to my attention, I couldn’t help but drag my eyes over the dusting of dark hair on his thick arms, as well as the dark curls coming up from the low collar of his t-shirt. Suddenly I pictured the probable line of hair from his belly button, trailing down his taut stomach past his jeans. “I get it from my dad. He was half Chasind, half Rivaini.”

“An interesting mix," I smirked, "Would the same father approve of you inviting bleeding strangers up into your apartment?" Hawke’s smile faltered but he seemed relatively unaffected as he packed up the first aid kit again and handed me the baggie of ice.

“Well it's hard to say. I'd ask but he died when I was twenty,” he said quietly, but noticing the look on my face he added, “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. It’s fine.”

I stared down at my feet for a moment as Hawke removed his gloves and cleaned up. 

"I'm great with people, I know," Hawke joked, "The trick is to bring up the dead parent right as you get comfortable." 

"Wow, a trade secret, I feel so special," I feigned awe, "I shall have to keep that in mind next time I end up in a stranger's living room with a broken nose." 

"And we only just met," Hawke raised his eyebrows at me before heading back to the bathroom. 

“Do you want me to call you a cab?” Hawke came back into the main room, sitting on the arm of the couch next to me, “Or do you have another way of getting home. Honestly I’d rather you not stumble home with a broken nose and a high BAC but I’m just some guy you just met so you don’t have to listen to me.”

“I can call a cab, don’t worry,” I tried to sound more confident than I looked; I was boozed up and sweaty and my nose was probably bright purple. I longed for the time only an hour ago when he complimented my ass with a cheeky grin on his face. I almost wanted to remind him how cute it was just to get back into his favor but luckily my sense of self-respect and the single sober part of me teamed up to keep my fucking mouth shut and my legs crossed and my hands folded neatly in my lap. 

“I’ll walk you downstairs at least,” Hawke offered me a kind smile but all I could see was pity, “Stay with you until the cab comes. Wouldn’t want those dicks from downstairs to wake up and realize you and I kicked their arses and suddenly thirst for revenge.”

I gave him a friendly smile back as I dialed the number of a local cab company, but on the inside I was beating myself up. Hawke had written out his address on a piece of paper and he held it in front of me as I ordered the service. Hawke grabbed the empty glasses and went back to the kitchen as I got up off the couch and made my way to the door. 

As I waited for him, I could feel a dark part of me that I tried desperately to hide away come creeping back into my mind, whispering terrible things to me. _You could get him into bed if you really wanted to, couldn’t you_. I felt bile rising in my throat. _Go into that kitchen and seduce him, suck his cock like the good little slut you are_. My fingernails dug into the flesh of my palms as I tried to block out the voice. _His_ voice.

“You all set?” Hawke’s soothing voice pulled me out of my thoughts. He had thrown on a black zip-up sweatshirt over his flannel and t-shirt. I nodded, suddenly wishing I had left my jacket at home, if only so he would inevitably lend me a sweatshirt and I would never give it back. But I had no way of knowing the handsome stranger would show up in my life and somehow manage to make me a puddle of goo with one smile. My phone buzzed and I saw Bela had replied to my text.

From: Sexy Beast 69 69  
Time: 10/16/DA 1:15 A.M.

Please videotape it and send it to me. If u survive, i mean. xoxox

I snorted and put my phone back in my pocket and followed Hawke out of the building. I’d text her tomorrow and let her at least think I was having amazing sex when in reality I was most likely going to go home, have a sad wank, and pass out until noon and hopefully forget everything that happened. 

Hawke and I stood on the pavement outside the bar as we waited for my cab. We had a pleasant chat, staying away from more personal topics. I found out he was a huge nerd, and also a painter in his spare time. When the cab finally came, we were discussing our favorite art periods. 

“Thank you for helping me,” I smiled at him as I got into the cab, “Really.”

“It was nothing,” he grinned back, and I got butterflies again, “I didn’t expect to be repairing injuries on my night off but hey, it’s what I get for choosing the profession.”

“Well you were apparently pathetic enough to be spending said night off at the bar below your flat,” I teased. I didn’t want him to close the cab door. I didn’t want to go back to my shitty place. I was a fucking goner. 

“I’ll have you know I have a good excuse,” Hawke put his hands on his hips. I could see  
the cabbie was getting impatient and wanted to start the meter but I shot a glare in his direction that shut him right up. 

“Oh really,” I tried to say in my most flirty voice. Hawke just laughed, but in a kind way. 

“I swear,” he kept on grinning, “I usually stay up this late anyway because my fiancee works late nights sometimes over at the hospital. Before you say anything, yes I know it’s cheesy and dumb: the doctor and the paramedic fall in love, but I it’s really not as bad as it sounds. I promise we’re normal guys. We just happen to save lives sometimes.”

 

If it was at all possible, my heart was shattered and also filled with hope at the exact same time. So he definitely did like men, but it also happened he really just liked one guy in particular. Like, he was going to marry him. 

“I’ll have to take your word on that,” I let out a strained laugh, “Thanks again, Hawke.”

I shut the door before he could say anything else. I told the driver my address and curled up into a ball in the back seat of the cab.

“ _My fiancee_.”

“ _Doctor_.”

I was so fucked. And not in the way I wanted to be


	2. Nightcall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a boring chapter to introduce Isabela and her and Fen's relationship, as well as some plot set-up. Fenris in this is an opiate addict, which is how I translated the whole Lyrium thing. I'm not an addict but I have been in a relationship with a recovering opiate addict and a close friend of mine is a recovering heroin addict so I have some sense of the recovery process although it varies from person to person. I am very much supportive of addicts and their struggles but said ex was also my abuser so if I ever sound biased please don't hesitate to let me know.

“He’s married? You cheeky minx,” Isabela purred at me over brunch the following morning. I threw a chip at her and scowled, adjusting the large black sunglasses on my face. As predicted, I had the mother of all hangovers, no thanks to the bottle of wine I downed after stumbling into my flat, going over Hawke’s last words to me over and over again.

“He’s _engaged_ , there’s a difference,” I groaned, poking at the yoke of the fried egg on my plate and watching as the yellow fluid seeped out, spreading to all corners of my breakfast plate, “Besides, I don’t do married men. Not anymore.”

“I think it’s wonderfully naughty,” Bela smirked, sipping her mimosa, “And a doctor too? Sure beats your junkie ass.”

“Says the stripper,” I retorted, my scowl becoming even more intense. Bela just laughed and buttered a slice of wheat toast.

“Kitten, we both have to accept the fact that we are only destined to be the other woman,” she waved the toast at me as she spoke, “Or in your case, the other man.”

“I’m not going to sleep with Hawke,” I mumbled, not quite believing myself. About halfway through the wine bottle, I had the brilliant idea of stalking Hawke on Facebook, and of course I found exactly what I had expected: Hawke had a lot of friends, I mean, of course he did, how could people not like him? Just scrolling through tagged pictures of him surrounded by other attractive people made my throat burn with jealousy. I also came across photos of him and his supposed betrothed, “Anders.” Who the fuck was named Anders, anyway? I thought my name was bad. To top it all off, he was tall and blonde and slender, like some boy next door. I hated him already.

“I’m sure your breakfast is very sorry for whatever it did to deserve that treatment,” Bela brought me out of my thoughts, making me realize I had unconsciously been stabbing at my fry up with my fork for the last few minutes. To be honest, I wasn’t all that hungry but breakfast/brunch with Bela was something we did every weekend, and I did need something to soak up all the alcohol in my system. 

“He’s blonde,” I muttered as I took a large sip of my coffee. Bela leaned forward and patted me on my shoulder, a sympathetic look on her face. I had been friends with Bela ever since I moved to Kirkwall three years beforehand. She had made a posting on Craigslist, looking for a sex-positive roommate who wouldn’t mind rooming with an “exotic dancer.” I was desperate and homeless and given the reactions of my former roommates after finding out about my history, I figured rooming with someone who might understand my situation was the best choice. She’d immediately taken a liking to me, of course, saying she preferred to have attractive roommates because it made their faults seem less annoying. At first I was a little put off by her loud, inappropriate comments and boisterous personality, but when I was straight up with her regarding my past, she suddenly became very serious and promised she wouldn’t let anyone hurt me on her watch. We’d been best friends ever since.

We settled into a comfortable, familiar silence as we finished our plates of food and split the check between us. As we walked back to our flat I thought about Hawke and the way he had acted around me the previous night. If he was engaged, why would he flirt with me like that? Unless I had read it wrong, but it definitely seemed like flirting. I wondered if I should even pursue a friendship with this man if that’s the kind of person he was. But I was already hooked. 

“You’ve got that vacant look in your eyes, Kitten,” Bela pulled me away from my thoughts with a concerned look on her face, linking her arm through mine, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m just tired,” I sighed, and for the first time probably my entire life, it wasn’t an excuse. I felt Bela’s nails dig into my bicep and looked up, meeting her warm brown eyes that were burning with _something_. There was nothing scarier than Isabela when she was mad or serious. 

“You say that, but last time you were like this you relapsed,” she pursed her lips when I let out a bitter laugh, “I’m serious, Fenris. Am I alright to leave you alone today? Do you want me to call in sick?”

I stopped walking and faced her full on, holding up my pinky. Honestly I didn’t deserve her as a friend, after all I’d put her through.

“I promise that I’m fine,” I tried to sound confident in myself as Bela hooked her finger around mine, “I just need a nap and some ibuprofen.”

“Okay but if I find you passed out in your own vomit again, I’ll kill you,” she slung her arm around my shoulders and lead us forward. 

“I love you too,” I smiled and hooked my arm around her waist, walking with her in sync. 

 

As soon as we got home, I ran a hot bath and made myself a cup of tea, grabbing my book from the night before and slipping into the tub when it was full. Bela was right: I was getting into one of my states again, where nothing mattered but my all encompassing desire for euphoria. All I had to do was survive the next 48 hours without giving into temptation, and provide enough distractions for myself to keep my mind occupied and my body calmed. 

I stayed in the bath until the water became mild and had slowly drained to the point where it only covered the lower planes of my naked body. Wrapping my pruny person in a fluffy blue towel, I retreated to my bedroom, my wet feet leaving little pools of water in my wake as evidence that I was still in fact alive and moving. 

When I had first arrived in Kirkwall, all of my belongings fit into a small black backpack I carried with me at all times. Now my bedroom was a mess: books stacked up on the floor and against the wall, a disarray of vinyl records in and out of cases next to an old turntable; my bed was a mess of many different blankets and quilts, bought by Bela, mostly, at small hippie stores and street craft festivals. In a way it reflected my being more than any other part of my life: messy and cluttered, but a meld of multiple people’s influences all vying for dominance. It had been a long time since I considered myself to be anything more than what others had made me. 

I collapsed onto my mattress and shucked the towel off onto the floor, enjoying the feel of my naked skin against the multiple textures of my bedding, creating a pleasant tactile experience. Despite my aversion to touching my bare skin or contact of any kind really, I enjoyed being naked; to me I felt more like myself when stripped bare than when wearing clothes I picked out for myself. Ironic really, considering that even my own skin had been modified to suit another’s aesthetic vision. The door to my room opened and I nearly jumped out of said skin, pulling a piece of bedding over my body and groaning when I saw Bela’s smirking face.

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, my protests muffled by the wool blanket wrapped around my body.

“Calm down, I’m here to help, I swear,” Bela continued into my room despite my objections and sat down on the bed next to me, offering me a cigarette as some sort of apology for barging in on my personal space. I took her gift and let her light it, but I kept a deep scowl on my face the entire time. “How’s your nose? Do you need some ice?”

“It’s fine, it’s not the first time it’s been broken,” I grumbled, lightly touching my nose where the bandage was placed across it, “The swelling has gone down.”

“You’re lucky it wasn’t that bad,” Bela nodded approvingly of my healing nose, “Lusine called in to say I’m not needed tonight,” she sighed, flopping on her back against my pillows, “The crazy old bag still probably thinks I stole her necklace.”

“You DID steal her necklace,” I pointed out grimly, though I could feel the corners of my lips curl up slightly. Bela beckoned for the cigarette and I handed it over, watching as she took a long drag and exhaled large clouds of grey smoke through her nostrils, like some sort of mythical beast.

“Still, she has no proof, the racist cunt,” she flipped over onto her belly and gave a groan into a pillow.

“And you came in here to tell me this why?”

“I had an idea,” Bela started to grin, a wicked glint in her eye, “I think we should go out.”

“Last time you had an idea, we ended up in the Darktown wearing each others clothes,” I muttered, frowning at the memory. I hated Darktown more than anywhere else in the city, mostly because it was where the gangs would hang out, lurking around every corner, just waiting for people like me to cross their paths.

“You did look fantastic in those boots though,” Bela made an “mmmm” sound and giggled, “With that tiny leather skirt. You should show up at Hawke’s place wearing THAT.”

I haphazardly threw a pillow at her but it only caused her to giggle harder. She was right though, I did look good in those boots and skirt. Maybe Bela had the right idea after all.

“Anyway, I think we should go out tonight and celebrate you not dying last night,” she calmed herself down but still emitted a giggle or two every few words, “And where else should we go but the Hanged Man? It is my new favorite bar after all!”

“No Bela I’m not letting you anywhere near him,” I groaned, pulling the wooly blanket over my head and trying to shake the image from my mind of my roommate giving Hawke a lap dance, all while telling him all of my dirty secrets. To be honest it was kind of hot.

“Look I’m not trying to see him, I swear,” I could almost see Bela’s fingers crossed behind her back, but I bit my tongue, “Besides, isn’t he a paramedic? He’s probably working tonight anyways so there’s only a very small chance of seeing him.”

In all the time I’d known her, I had never heard a more logical thing come out of Isabela’s mouth. Those lips were made for many things, but being sensible was definitely not one of them. And she was right, if we did run into Hawke, I could just explain how Bela’s new haunt just happened to be the bar underneath his apartment, which was why I had been there the other night in the first place. Suddenly my brain was filled with images of Hawke in his work clothes, dressed in the deep blue of the Kirkwall paramedics. It complimented the warm browns of his eyes. 

“Fine,” I finally uttered, more in an attempt to stop thinking about Hawke than an actual desire to go out. Bela thanked me and kissed me on the top of my head before bolting out of my room to plan an outfit for later that night. 

 

I spent the rest of the day locked up in my room, only venturing out for food and tea. By the time the sun had begun to set, I had already started to regret agreeing to go out with Bela. 

For one thing, I didn’t want to show up again in that bar with a bandaged, swollen nose like I was some kind of troublemaker. I also didn’t know if the men that had harassed me from the previous night would be there again or not. But what really gave me a queasy feeling in my stomach was the prospect of seeing Hawke again.

Bela knocked on my door around 7:00, apparently remembering that there was a reason why I kept my door closed. 

“Come in,” I called out, grabbing my shoes off of the floor and sliding them on my feet. Bela appeared in my doorway in a striped crop top and a tight, navy blue pencil skirt, looking like some sort of sexy sailor. 

“I see you really made the effort to go all out tonight,” Bela remarked, checking her bright red lipstick in the mirror above my dresser. She was joking, of course, because I was wearing what I always wore: black skinny jeans with too many holes, a t-shirt, a hoodie, and my leather jacket. I had learned it was better to put out a “don’t touch me” vibe through my clothing than have to answer questions about my appearance. Obviously it didn’t always work, the previous night being an example, but it helped me get by mostly unnoticed and without anyone bothering me too badly. 

We made it to the Hanged Man by foot around 7:45 due to our lack of cash for a cab. The walk was quiet, mostly because we knew once we had a few drinks in us we’d be chatting each other’s ears off all night, and we wanted to get in the peace and quiet while we could. 

The first thing I did when Bela and I set foot through the doors of the Hanged Man was do a quick yet thorough scan of the establishment for both the jerks from before and of course, Hawke. I was slightly comforted and slightly disappointed as I sat up at the bar with Bela, but I tried to clear my mind and enjoy myself as best I could. 

Despite my activities in the days before, I really wasn’t a fan of going out for drinks. Or just going out at all. It was one part misanthropy, and two parts paranoia and fear of running into someone from my past. Plus it really didn’t help my recovery situation as much as it hindered it by giving me another substance to abuse. But alcohol calmed my nerves, and as long as I had Bela by my side I really had nothing to fear. I managed to relax and maintain a positive attitude until about the fifth drink when Bela had completely dropped me and our conversation to chat up a sultry brunette at the other end of the bar. It had only taken her an hour or so to find somebody to bring home, which was actually a little bit longer than usual. So I nursed my glass of liquor and kept to myself, going over my schedule for the next week in my head, until I felt the presence of someone behind me. 

“Now I’m starting to think you _enjoy_ getting into bar fights,” a rich, masculine voice spoke from behind me, followed by a low chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine. Immediately my calm demeanor was shattered. I turned around to see Hawke in all his hunky glory, his arms crossed over his chest and that smug grin on his face that made me go weak at the knees. I gaped at him for a moment, attempting to form a clever comeback, but nothing came to me. 

“Hello Hawke,” I said instead, suddenly feeling more intoxicated than ever. He was wearing a dark grey sweater with the sleeves rolled up so I had the opportunity to fully appreciate his muscular forearms. I noticed the bottom of a tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of his left arm and I found myself wanting to know what it was and if he had any more. Hawke sat down in the empty seat next to me, beckoning the bartender over. 

“Good evening Hawke,” the surly man behind the counter smiled warmly, “What can I get for ya?”

“Just some ice water for me as usual, thanks,” Hawke turned to me, “What are you drinking Fenris? I’ll get you another, my treat.”

“That is...unnecessary,” I could feel the blush creep up my cheeks and I turned my face away. For the first time in a long time I didn’t get bad feelings about another man offering to pay for something for me.

“Suit yourself,” Hawke shrugged, turning back to the bartender as he got his glass of water, “Thanks, Corf. I’ll let you know if he changes his mind.”

“So, tough guy,” Hawke smirked, turning his body to fully face me, “What brings you back to the scene of the crime? Was it my devilish good looks? My undeniable charm? Or the intoxicating aroma of stale piss and vomit that lingers around here?”

“Hardly,” I let out a chuckle, shaking my head, “I’m here with my roommate. It happens to be her new favorite bar, which was why I was here yesterday in the first place. I wanted to go out and it came highly recommended, but now that I think about it she isn’t the most reliable source.”

Hawke’s grin widened and I felt my heart skip a beat. Maker, I hadn’t been this smitten before in my life; just finding someone I liked enough to spend time with was hard. There was just something about Hawke that drew me to him; the way he exuded warmth and kindness, his cheeky sense of humor, his rugged handsomeness were all major factors but nothing could fully explain my infatuation. 

“Fen, my new _friend_ Solana and I were thinking about heading to that new club a few blocks over,” I heard Bela approaching from behind, “But I need to...OH...oh.”

She had stopped in her tracks and was now staring at Hawke, taking him in. A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes and a wicked smile crept across her face.

“Well, hello,” she crooned, sauntering over to Hawke and extending her hand, “I’m Isabela, Fenris’ sexy roommate. And you must be Hawke, the dashing hero.” 

“Very nice to meet you, Isabela,” Hawke let out a loud laugh, shaking Bela’s hand, “How did you know who I was?”

“Fenris is very good at describing people,” Bela draped her hands over my shoulders and propped her chin up on my head, “It’s one of his _many_ talents.”

“I’m sure he exaggerated my heroism,” he replied, and I could have sworn I saw his cheeks flush red, “I’m told I get myself involved in others’ affairs too often.”

“No please, keep _inserting_ yourself into Fenris’ _affairs_ ,” Bela waggled her eyebrows and I covered my face in embarrassment, but Hawke just let out another booming laugh.  
“I like you,” he said, wagging his finger at her as he regained his composure. 

“Then you must be smart,” Bela smirked, removing herself from my body. I let out a groan and finished my drink in one gulp. 

“You were saying something Bela?” I loved her but now I wanted her as far away from Hawke as possible, partly due to jealousy but mainly because I just knew she would continue to embarrass me.

“Right,” Bela smiled at me innocently as if she’d done nothing wrong at all, “Solana and I wanted to go to that new club, but I need to stop by The Rose first to pick up my paycheck.” 

“You can come with, and Hawke is totally invited to,” Bela smirked, “I mean, if you wanted.”

Suddenly I felt my face grow hot and my palms began to sweat. The images of Bela giving Hawke a lap dance resurfaced, tormenting me. 

“I’m sure Hawke is busy,” I sputtered, angling myself towards Isabela in an aggressive stance, giving her my best “seriously?” expression. Realistically, Bela would drop it and Hawke would politely decline, then we would say our goodbyes and I would return to the flat while Bela had fun with her new plaything. But no one could have guessed Hawke’s reaction, probably not even Hawke himself.

“Why not?” Hawke shrugged, but I noticed a sparkle in his eye, “Honestly I had no other plans than falling asleep on my couch watching sitcom reruns, and this sounds like an adventure. And I _love_ a good adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will pick up in the next chapter I promise I mean it's Fenris, Isabela, and Hawke in a strip club after a few drinks. What could go wrong right?  
> I decided that Fenris is a mechanic. This chapter and the last have taken place for Fenris after work and then on his day off.  
> Anders will also be introduced in either the next chapter or the chapter after the next.


	3. Hotline Bling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up...maybe

I must have shown my shock on my face because Hawke grabbed my shoulders and shook them, all while laughing his head off. 

“Does this happen often?” he snorted, looking at Bela who just shrugged, “Look Tough Guy, this may be a surprise but I do enjoy going out one in a while."

Did Hawke really agree to go out with me and my terrible roommate? To a club? Suddenly my head was filled with scenes of us grinding on the dance floor and I zoned out again. 

"Well come on then you lot!" Bela slapped my on my back and pushed hawke and I towards the doors of the bar. Laughing, Hawke stumbled along with me at his side until the four of us were on the street, heading towards the Blooming Rose. 

While Isabela and her new lady love walked on ahead, murmuring things to each other and giggling, Hawke and I hung back a little. It was strange because I felt so comfortable with him, but I barely even knew him. 

“Something on your mind?” Hawke gave me a kind smile that made my cheeks burn. For the first time since I had moved to Kirkwall, I was glad for the cooler temperatures because they became a great excuse for blushing. 

“Just thinking about what my plans are for Satinalia,” I lied, darting my eyes away from his face and instead watching my feet as I stepped on all of the cracks in the pavement, “Bela probably has something planned that involves booze and cross dressing.” 

“That is an interesting image,” Hawke chuckled and I could see his breath in the cold air, “Is that some sort of unofficial tradition?”

“By now, practically,” I joked, thinking back to my past parties with Bela, “What about you? Anything special planned?”

“I usually go to this big party my best friend Varric throws every year,” Hawke shrugged, “Nothing too fantastical. Maybe a little cross dressing though, I have a tendency to show up in those sexy cop/doctor/fireman costumes more as a joke than anything else. Plus I really pull off thigh highs.”

“Now _that_ is an interesting image!” I laughed, imagining Hawke in a miniskirt and stockings like Bela, “Is there any photo proof?”

“I’m sure there is somewhere in my tagged photos on Facebook, if you're ever curious enough to click the friend request button.”

“So you can see all of the embarrassing photos on my profile? I don’t think so.”

 

When we reached the Blooming Rose, Bela instructed us to wait outside while she and Solana picked up her paycheck from Lusine, leaving Hawke and I standing in the cold outside of a strip club late at night. The red light from the neon sign reflected on Hawke’s face; red was definitely his color. We stood in silence for a moment, giving me the chance to smoke; I offered Hawke a cigarette but he politely declined, making me feel slightly guilty. I didn’t like to smoke around non-smokers. 

“Would it be bad if you smelled like smoke when you got home?” I had known people who had problems with that in the past. 

“No, Anders would definitely know if I started smoking again,” Hawke chuckled, but there was a stern look in his eyes, “He can always tell when someone’s lying or hiding something from him. It’s his super power.”

“Anders?” I tried to play dumb like I hadn’t tried to figure out everything I could about him on the internet the night before.

“Oh right sorry, Anders is my fiancee, the doctor,” Hawke ran a hand through his thick black hair, “It’s not his real name don’t worry, his parents weren’t that mean. It’s just...what everyone calls him.”

“I’m used to strange names by now,” I smiled, nudging him with my shoulder, “Don’t you worry about that.”

Hawke smiled back at me, and for an excruciatingly long moment we stood there looking at each other, backlit by the pinky-red lights of the club, the faint booming bass of dance music seeping through the concrete walls. Bela broke the silence by throwing the door open, peeking her head around the side, searching for us.

“Change of plans, boys,” she sounded a little giddy, “I have some business to sort out so this will take longer than I thought. You’re both welcome to come inside and wait in one of the private rooms or you can take a seat and enjoy the show. I believe it’s Serendipity right now.”

Great, now I was going to drag Hawke inside a strip club filled with sleazy men and topless women vying for his attention and his wallet. I was about to refuse, but Hawke moved towards the door, glancing back at me and beckoning for me to follow.

The interior of the Blooming Rose never failed to make me feel like I was stuck inside a strange dream. The walls were decorated in floral, decadent wallpaper and there were large, red velvet couches in various sections of the main room, covered in fluffy pink pillows. The stage was shaped like a heart with a handful of poles up to the ceiling and chairs in the surrounding audience area. At the moment there was a pale woman with dark hair up on stage, wearing a purple lingerie set and teasing a group of men in the audience with a feather boa. Bela disappeared into the back, leaving Hawke and I awkwardly standing in the middle of a busy strip club. I felt a warm hand grab mine and pull me away.

“Follow me,” Hawke’s voice barely made it to my ears through the loud music. I let myself be lead towards a room separated by large, red velvet curtains with gauzy gold tassels, trying not to focus on Hawke’s strong grip or the callouses in his palm. Hawke snuck through the curtain, announcing “If there’s anyone in here speak now or forever hold your silence!” 

There was no one in the small, circular room, just a stage in the center with a golden pole, and a rosy pink couch lining the walls not covered by the curtains and a mini fridge with a tray and glasses. Hawke let go of my hand I felt a sense of loss, immediately sticking both of my hands in the pockets of my jacket and looking down at my feet again. I could hear Hawke collapse on one section of the couch, letting out a deep sigh. 

“I haven’t been to a strip club since I was 22,” I could hear the smirk in his voice, “Do you often bring men you just met to places like this?”

“Only cocky paramedics,” I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to tease me more. Hawke just laughed and reclined back into his seat, kicking his feet up and resting them on the stage. 

“You didn’t tell me you were rooming with a stripper,” he grinned at me and I walked over, sitting on the stage in front of him, my feet dangling an inch off of the red carpeted ground. 

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Hawke,” I tried to play along but I knew I sounded more serious than I had intended, “Like you said, we’ve only just met.” 

“It’s funny you should say that,” Hawke leaned forward, planting his feet back on the ground and resting his elbows on his knees, “I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. Strange how sometimes you just meet people like that, isn’t it?”

“Very,” I replied quietly, my gaze fixated in my lap. Truth be told, I had never met anyone like that before meeting Hawke; I was still a bit shaken by the very idea of it. I walked over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of champagne and a corkscrew, and sat back on the stage. 

“Well you already know all about my life,” he spoke calmly and quietly, as if trying not to make me uncomfortable. I appreciated it. “At least the basics. Why don’t you tell me about yours?”

“That would probably take all night,” I snorted, daring to look up at Hawke’s face and finding myself staring into his golden eyes. 

“Good thing I have the time,” he never broke his gaze, “Let’s start simply. What do you do for work?”

“I’m a mechanic,” I answered bluntly, breaking eye contact to open the champagne, “I work on the weekdays, mainly in the mornings, at the Red Iron garage in Lowtown.”

“Oh I know that place, my friend got his truck fixed there once. Isn’t the owner a right prick?”

“Meeran? Yeah,” I chuckled, shaking my head, taking a swig from the bottle “It keeps me living how I want though.” I offered him the bottle but he shook his head, leaving me to take another couple of gulps. 

“No I understand,” Hawke leaned back again, crossing his legs and looking up at the ceiling, “I didn’t always live in a fancy loft apartment. I was a refugee from Fereldan, after all.”

“A regular rags to riches story,” I teased, which made Hawke smile and in return, gave me butterflies, “Don’t worry, I’m not one of those people who treats cars like they’re their own children.”

“No, that would be my friend Varric’s brother and his fancy red convertible,” Hawke snickered, “I secretly think he has sex with that thing I swear.”

“Do you think if he’d came here he’d have one of the girls dance to car sounds?” 

“Fuck!” Hawke burst out laughing, “Thanks, Fenris. Now I’m just imagining Isabela shaking her arse to a car alarm.”

“You’re welcome,” I smirked, biting my lip and trying to hold back my laughter, “At least it’s Bela and not some hairy old man.”

“What’s it like living with her, by the way?” Hawke uncrossed his legs and scratched his beard, “Is she just gone all night? Does she pay the rent in ones?”

“It comes with it’s pro’s and cons,” I took another swig from the bottle, “Pro’s: she practices dance moves on me. Cons: she really does pay the rent in ones.” 

“You’re telling me you receive lap dances from your gorgeous roommate and somehow you’re not head over heels for her?”

“It’s purely platonic,” I laughed, thinking about how strange our relationship must be to those on the outside, “We got over the involuntary hard-ons pretty fast and I give her helpful critiques. For example, I kindly informed her that the elbow is generally not an erogenous zone.” 

“I don’t know Fenris, just thinking of wrinkly, dry elbows is turning me on,” Hawke waggled his eyebrows at me and my heart skipped a beat, despite how ridiculous he sounded. I playfully smacked his knee and he grinned. “Does this mean by proxy, you know how to give an amazing lap dance?” 

“I guess,” I shrugged, but my insides were boiling, “I could...show you, if you wanted?” 

“You’re offering me a platonic lap dance?” Hawke looked slightly flustered.

“Yes,” I swallowed hard, quirking an eyebrow and attempting to appear playful and not at all aroused. Hawke let out a snort and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah sure why the fuck not,” he smirked, “Show me your moves, Tough Guy. Although I don’t know how good you’ll be in skinny jeans and a leather jacket.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” I downed a large gulp of champagne and slammed the bottle on the ground, wiping my mouth and standing up. Hawke whistled and held his hands up in surrender. 

“I’m removing my boots so I don’t accidentally kick you with the steel toes,” I murmured as I slipped my shoes and socks off. Luckily for me, my feet were clean. I walked over to the other end of the couch and sat up on my knees, waiting for the song to change. 

As soon as I heard the first few beats of the new song, I slowly started to crawl towards Hawke, keeping complete eye contact and pushing my ass high in the air. A part of me in the back of my head was screaming at me to stop before I embarrass myself, but the alcohol had taken over. I reached Hawke and slid off of the couch, kneeling in front of him and placing my hands on his knees before pushing them open wide. My hands slid up his thighs as I rolled my body up into a standing position, looming over him. I hoisted my right leg up to pin his shoulder back as I removed my jacket, dropping it to the ground, and then settled back on two feet. Placing both hands on his chest, I dropped down into a squat, balancing on the balls of my feet, sliding my hands down his chest to his belt as I descended, before coming all the way back up, holding on to his shoulders and pinning him in place. 

“I’m going to have to skip the bit where I wiggle my backside in front of your face,” I breathed, looking down at his flustered face, “Because I have a pathetic, bony ass.” 

Really, most of my body was pure muscle; I was built like a dancer, slim with taut, controlled muscles. I had spent most of my life skinny and malnourished, so I prided myself in taking care of my body when I could, keeping my strength up. 

Taking a deep breath, I slowly slid onto Hawke’s lap, my knees on either side of him, but my body hovering just above his. I reached my right hand around the back of his head and pulled his face to my collarbone where my hoodie was zipped up.

“Bite the zipper,” I ordered, and he obeyed. 

“So bossy,” he grinned as he took the little piece of metal between his teeth. I leaned back, bracing myself on Hawke’s knees with my hands as I arched my body backwards, the movement causing my zipper to pull down until it separated at the bottom, with Hawke’s face below my belly button. I paused and slid the hoodie off so I was just in my t-shirt. I realized that now he could see the tattoos on my arms, and I watched his eyes dart across them. Quickly remedying that, I pushed his torso back against the couch by his shoulders, pressing the front of my body hard against him, his face against my chest. 

I stepped back off of the couch and turned around, bending over to brace my hands on the stage, my legs spread and my ass high in the air. I crouched again, my back to him, before rising up so that my arse pushed against his groin, sliding up and down. Fuck, he was hard, I could feel it through his jeans. I bit my lip and shut my eyes tight, finding the will to ignore it, passing it off as an “involuntary hard-on” like he had mentioned earlier, and continued to push back against him. Leaning back, I pressed my back to his chest and braced my right arm behind me against the wall, while my left curled back to clutch at Hawke’s shoulder. My hips rolled up and down, my ass rubbing against his hard-on with every movement. I didn’t want to mention that I had made men come before just with this. 

Pushing myself back up away from Hawke, I turned around to face him, crawling onto his lap once more, this time with my body in full contact. As I started to move my hips, I felt Hawke’s hands try to hold onto my sides, but I grabbed his wrists and slammed them against the wall, pinning him back.

“No touching,” I growled into his ear. I could’ve sworn I heard a small whimper escape his throat. 

“So...bossy,” he panted. I rolled my hips a few more times before letting go of Hawke’s wrists. His arms flopped to his sides in defeat. 

“Fenris,” Hawke whispered as I undulated in his lap.

“Yes, Hawke?” 

“Touch my elbow.”

He burst into laughter and I pushed his chest, my face going red but I couldn’t stop myself from laughing as well, my shoulders shaking and my stomach straining. We laughed like that for a good 30 seconds before managing to calm down. I relaxed on his lap, pushing my hair out of my face and taking deep breaths. 

“Isabela taught you well,” Hawke grinned, his cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated. 

“You’re a terrible subject,” I crossed my arms and pretended to be angry but I could feel the corners of my mouth twitch. 

“Sorry about...uh...y’know,” Hawke’s eyes pointed down at his crotch and I chuckled. 

“I think I’d be more insulted if you didn’t get one,” I said, removing myself from his lap reluctantly, but I wanted to give him space. Re-establish that our relationship was still purely platonic...maybe. Hawke grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him, looking me directly in the eyes. I’d be more mad if I wasn’t already hypnotized by his beautiful, warm irises.

“You don’t have to hide these,” he spoke softly, releasing his grip and gently running his fingertips across my arm, giving me goosebumps. 

“I’m not hiding my tattoos,” I giggled drunkenly, jerking my arm back, “Considering they’re on my face and hands too, I’d be pretty shit at it.” Hawke grabbed my wrist again, turning my arm so that my forearm faced upwards, where under the colorful ink one could still see what looked like track marks. 

“I’m not talking about those,” his voice lowered even more. 

Before I could respond, Bela and Solana burst through the curtains like stumbling messes. 

“There you boys are!” Bela yelled, “We’ve been looking all over for you! Fenris, where are your clothes?”

“It got warm,” Hawke’s prize winning smile reappeared on his face as he let go of my arm, “That tends to happen when there’s a bunch of naked people dancing and sweating in a single space.”

“I got my paycheck, and a few other goodies from my locker,” Bela giggled, “C’mon let’s get out of here.” 

Hawke waited until I had put my missing articles of clothing back on before following Bela and Solana out of the club, acting as if nothing had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew. I had a lot more plans for this chapter but it ended up being longer than expected so in order to make the chapters generally even, I split up the events into two chapters. The next chapter should be up by Sunday. And be warned, it has some drug use in it as well as mentions of previous abuse. But also Anders! Yay!
> 
> Also everything in this is a modern thedas but I couldn't think of a better term for their version of Facebook so...Facebook it is lmao


	4. King Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris, Hawke, Isabela and her new pet go out clubbing. The past is brought up, tensions arise, drinks are had, I drink a little and end the chapter on a cliffhanger of sorts. Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slides a glass of booze at you from across the bar* Hey...how you been? I know, I know, it's been so long but, I had to live my life, you know? Take care of some things. But I haven't stopped thinking about you, ever. I promise I won't leave this time, I know I'm fucked up but I'm better now, I swear! Think about it...

Hawke and I walked silently next to each other as we all made our way to Kirkwall’s newest nightclub, the Black Emporium. The night air was chilly and I could see my breath mingle with Hawke’s in the air. Fuck, I was drunk, and I’d just given a lap dance to a man who’s already spoken for. Regular, normal, sober Fenris wouldn’t even allow a stranger to touch his arm in passing, let alone grind his ass all over another man. There was a similar problem before and now, I was starting to realize, it had taken a new form. I really didn’t want to end up blacking out and waking up on the floor of some stranger in Nevarra. I was supposed to be different now, right? So why was I letting myself fall down into that familiar, dark spiral? I thought about Hawke and what he had said about my marks. “You don’t need to hide.” 

“Hey,” that same, smooth voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up at the man next to me, a sad, almost guilty expression on his face. 

“Hey,” I replied, having to avert my gaze from those puppy dog eyes.

“I want to apologize for what I said before,” he explained, “In case you haven’t guessed already, I’m kind of an oversharer.”

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” I smirked, paying very close attention to my feet as we walked down the street.

“Ha ha very funny, but I’m serious,” he continued, “I have a problem: whenever I meet someone I think is really cool, I tend to just go off the rails trying to impress them or get closer to them or basically just get them to like me. I promise I’m not normally butting into people’s personal lives, though some of my friends would disagree, or telling everyone my life story. I just think you’re really cool, Fenris, and I want to be your friend.”

I stopped in my tracks, my alcohol soaked brain trying to comprehend everything Hawke had just thrown at me. He wants to be my friend?

“You think I’m cool?” is what I ended up saying out loud, starting to walk again, “You hardly even know me.”

“True,” Hawke grinned, “But Maker I’m a sucker for the cool, broody quiet guy in all black and usually some leather. I watched too many movies as a kid.”

“Oh so I’m broody now?”

“Yeah! But like, in a good way. A sexy way,” my stomach turns, “I’m sure all the ladies swoon over you as you pass them. You’re a real bad boy type.”

“Bad boy, huh?” _You have no idea_ I thought to myself, taking a deep breath through my nose and exhaling slowly through my mouth. 

“Yeah, I’d poke fun at myself for having a type, but Anders is pretty much the opposite of a bad boy,” Hawke laughed and shoved his hands in his pockets, as if remembering a specific memory of his prince charming, “He’s a real nerd. Although he’s real big about protesting for human rights and all that shit.”

Great, as if blonde doctor boy didn’t have enough to hold over my head. Bela and her date were drunkenly swaying ahead of us, arms slung around each other, laughing as they took swigs from a shared flask. This was still such a bad idea.

“Anyway, just wanted to make sure you weren’t ready to run away screaming from me or anything,” Hawke continued, beaming down at me.

“Is that something that happens often with your potential friends?”

“Don’t bully me,” he frowned, pretending to be hurt as I smirked smugly up at him, “I’m a very sensitive person!”

“Sensitive, chronic oversharer, you know, running away screaming is sounding more appealing with every character trait you reveal.”

“Well, be ready to flail your arms in the air too because I’m going to be honest with you,” Hawke sighed, “I don’t normally live above the Hanged Man. It’s my best friend’s flat and Anders and I are staying there right now while ours gets renovated.”

“Oh so you aren’t filthy rich and hipster chic?”

“Oh no, my actual place is much much worse,” Hawke laughed, “You should see my family’s ancestral home too.”

“Ancestral home? My goodness,” I feigned shock and awe, “Is that it for friendship-shattering secrets tonight or is there more? Are you actually the rightful heir to the Fereldan throne?”

“No, but I do know the king,” Hawke guffawed at my shocked face, “My cousin is a personal friend of his. Have I mentioned that I’m an Amell yet?”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“It just means sometimes my mum gets invited to very fancy parties and occasionally if I’m lucky, I can get into some very high class clubs.”

“Speaking of clubs,” Isabela joined the conversation suddenly, latching onto Hawke, “Have you been here yet? I hear it’s absolutely bonkers, like, drinks so strong you’ll forget your name and wake up 3 weeks later naked in a dumpster bonkers.” Was she listening in the whole time? Where did she come from?

“I have actually,” Hawke kindly laughed it off, “Though I can’t attest to the drink rumors, sorry.”

“Now that you mention it, you haven’t had a single drop all night,” Bela prodded Hawke’s arm with her claw like nails, “You’re not driving home are you? You could always just taxi back with us.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” he took a hand out of his pocket but this time he was holding something: a small poker chip looking item, “3 years sober now actually.”

My stomach sank. Of course we had immediately gotten along together, of course. Isabela just smiled and squeezed his arm.

“Suit yourself AA boy, but don’t get all mopey when we get all XXX without you later.”

“Bela, please,” I winced, but Hawke just laughed, putting his token back in his pocket. Bela sauntered back to her place at the front of the pack and we walked in silence again for a moment. So, Hawke was an alcoholic. I guess it made sense, considering his refusal of all forms of alcohol despite the amount of booze being slugged down around him. If the fiancee thing hadn’t already made me doubt pursuing a friendship with Hawke, this would have done it. I couldn’t be involved with other addicts, not again. I was like gasoline, and another addict would be like an open flame. The inevitability of our relapse would consume us. 

After a while, we approached a large, all black building, with strange, occult looking symbols printed in gold on the front, not unlike something you’d see in Tevinter. A few moments of staring at the symbols would let you know that they did, in fact, form common letters: The Black Emporium. There was a deep bass booming from within, and a line around the block. Fuck.

“Do you think you could pull your royal magic and get us in?” I had to speak loudly to even try to be heard over the sound of the club.

“Actually, I know the owner,” Hawke grinned sheepishly, his volume at an equal level “I didn’t want to mention it before because I wanted to seem normal.”

“Garrett Hawke you are so far from normal,” I stared up at him and we locked eyes for a second.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I like it.”

We stayed like that for what seemed like forever, until once again Bela pushed herself between us. 

“What was that about knowing the owner?”

“How did you even hear that?” 

“What? Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

“I said-”

“It’s useless, sweet pea, I can’t hear anything out here. Let’s get inside and you can tell me then, hmmm?”

Bela grabbed Hawke and I by our arms and dragged us towards the bouncer as I committed the stunned look on Hawke’s face to memory. The man at the door was tall and buff and clad in all black, as most bouncers tend to be, and he raised one very thick eyebrow at us as we stumbled forward into his general direction. Isabela pushed Hawke in front of her and Hawke put his hands out in front of him apologetically.

“Hey, uh, I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Hawke, I was here a few weeks ago,” he tried to look as innocent as possible, denying responsibility for this rude entrance.

Luckily, the bouncer nodded and moved to the side, as if to say “come on in.” Bela seemed very excited at the prospect of having an instant “in” to even the most exclusive clubs. 

She excitedly pushed Solana through the doorway into the club, followed by Hawke, followed by me. 

Inside the club was like something from a movie, but a really obscure, Blessed Age movie with a cult following. The ceiling was high and there were giant, black, ornate chandeliers hanging with pulsing lights attached to them, changing color to the beat of whatever intense song was playing in the background. In fact, everything was black, with intricately carved patterns and fleur de lys covering every piece of furniture. A throng of people was grouped together in the center of the club, apparently dancing but it looked more like wild flailing and dubiously sexual grinding to me. I could barely tell due to the constant pulsing lights and the enormity of the mass, so there was no single group or pair I could really focus for too long. Black, velvet couches with ornate frames and giant mirrors above them lined the walls of the club, where I could see people getting a little too close as well as some poor patrons who were completely passed out. There was a second floor framing the tall ceiling, where the more VIP guests draped themselves over the bannisters as they watched the pulsating crowd below them, and curtained off sections where I was sure something unspeakable was going on. 

Bela immediately bolted for the private areas with her gal pal, leaving Hawke and I awkwardly standing there a little awestruck. I could see the bar in the corner of the room, where attractive bartenders in tight, black leathers did tricks with alcohol that seemed more appropriate in a circus. I headed there, unsure of whether or not Hawke would follow me, but knowing I needed a lot more alcohol if I was going to get through the night after these revelations. I sat down at the first open barstool I saw and was immediately attended to by one of the secret agent looking staff. I asked for a recommendation and told them I was “up for anything except for tequila, because I don’t want to die tonight,” and they laughed and winked before disappearing, presumably to mix me a drink.

“I wonder if they squeak when they move,” a voice said behind me. So Hawke did follow me after all. I secretly hoped he wasn’t experiencing any temptations but I knew that realistically, he was capable of taking care of himself and showing restraint, even with all the fancy drinks. He sat down next to me and leaned on the counter, propping his head up with his elbow and staring at me with those dumb, beautiful eyes. 

“So, what do you think?” he asked with his stupid, pretty mouth.

“I think the whole thing screams ‘I Care About Aesthetic,’ but if the drinks are good I don’t really care about how pretentious the general air is,” I nearly yelled to be heard over the music. It was even worse inside than it was outside. The bartender returned with my drink: a bright blue concoction in a martini glass with smoke wafting around it and a (presumably) battery operated light inside, causing the entire drink to glow. 

“It’s called Blue Lightning,” the server explained, their black lipstick and the pulsing lights causing their toothy smile to be a little unnerving, “I promise it’s just a metaphor though, no actual lyrium involved.”

I smiled and thanked them, throwing some cash on the table, but inside I was churning. How did they know? Was it that obvious? I thought I hid my past as an addict pretty well, but this was the second time in one night it had been brought up. Or maybe the server just liked the drink and it was something they gave everyone who wanted a recommendation, and I was being paranoid. 

Probably the latter.

“Blue Lightning,” Hawke let out a low whistle, “That’s a hell of a name for a drink. Glad it came with a disclaimer though.”

I smiled nervously. He had seen my track marks, I know he had, he’d even made a point of mentioning them. But there were other injectable drugs, so he didn’t necessarily know, right? Right?

I took a sip of the Blue Lightning, and immediately I knew why it was named after Lyrium. It was ice cold, so burn of the alcohol down your throat was sudden and not unwelcome, and it tasted slightly like mint but with a smoky aftertaste, like the air after a storm, and a lot like a Lyrium high but on a much smaller scale. 

“How is it?” Hawke asked innocently. 

“Minty,” I replied, attempting to sound new to this particular experience, “And a little smoky. It’s good, though.”

“Well with a name like that it’s got to be tasty, right? Addictingly good, I suspect,” Hawke grinned as if he had made a cheesy joke, but I bristled slightly. 

“Exactly so,” I laughed nervously, “Tastes like oblivion.”

“Now _that’s_ a tagline,” Hawke chuckled. He asked for some ice water and for a moment we sipped our drinks in silence. Damn, this stuff was powerful, and I was already feeling like making bad decisions on my third sip. 

“So, 3 years, huh?” my mouth asked Hawke without my mind agreeing to it first. Hawke seemed a little startled, but his face softened and he smiled warmly.

“Just about, yeah,” he replied, “My ‘anniversary’ was a few months ago.”

“Must be proud,” my mouth spoke again without permission, “I know I’d be if I was you. I’m sure Anders is as well.”

I really didn’t mean to, but I may have said “Anders” with a little inflection on it that I didn’t intend to be there. Hawke took a sip of his water and sighed. 

“Actually, that’s how we met.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise to continue. I promise. I do wanna finish this shit eventually.  
> Also starting at the black emporium, I wrote this shit a little drunk while on vacation in Italy so fuckin let's go champ.  
> ALSO they're definitely going to fuck. Eventually. Sorry Anders.  
> ALSO the drink being called blue lightening is kind of like a drink being named a pseudonym for heroin or something, so it's a little "bold" or "edgy" lol.


	5. Drunk In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for drug use, mentions of alcoholism, nothing that isn't in the tags though  
> Fenris has an...interesting night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short, I have a lot of what happens next planned but these past two chapters were a struggle for me  
> ALSO  
> Did an ink drawing of Fenris in this AU (minus the elf ears)  
> http://strawberryfetusforever.tumblr.com/post/167094392639/did-a-modern-day-fenris-for-fun-and-for-my-fic

“It was a party for the EMT trainees and I was so drunk I could barely remember my name,” Hawke scratched his beard as he spoke, “All I remember is being offered yet another shot and of course, I said yes, and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed.”

I sipped my drink as I listened, making sure to stay silent as he told me his story. Hearing about an addict’s past is not something to be taken lightly. 

“I woke up, stuck with tubes and feeling like death warmed up, and next to my bed there was this handsome man in all white staring at me with a concerned look in his eyes. I smiled and said ‘if this is the Maker’s bosom, the chantry has some explaining to do.’

‘Not my best pickup line, but it made his face as red as a tomato and he nearly smacked me with my own chart. The rest was history.”

“How sweet, I could vomit,” I raised my eyebrows and smirked as I lifted the glass to my lips. Hawke gently and jokingly punched my shoulder. 

“I know it’s cliche, but he saved my life,” Hawke’s eyes burned with an intensity I’d never seen before, “He helped me through it all. Recovery, sobriety, and everything that came with them. I fell for him because of his kind heart. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, though.”

“Thank you for telling me this, Hawke,” I spoke hesitantly, “I...I know it’s not easy opening up about this stuff.”

“Well I am an oversharer after all,” he laughed, but that intense look in his eyes returned, “But if I am going to continue my honesty streak, I’m going to be real with you. I knew when I first saw you.”

My heart stopped. 

“I’m sure you know this but, when you are one, an addict, that is, you can just tell, you know? And you don’t have to tell me your personal poison or even your favorite color if you don’t want to. But I’m open with this because I want other people like me, like you, to know they’re not alone.”

My throat closed up and my hands began to shake. He had read me like an open book. It cut deep, to know that the one thing I tried so hard to hide was apparently so easy to see. But Hawke didn’t look like he wanted to hurt me, to use this information against me, and he certainly didn’t sound like it. 

“You don’t have to say anything, in fact, you can just ignore all of that if you want and never ever contact me again, but I,” Hawke retreated from the bar, backing up slowly with his hands up in surrender, “I am going to dance.” He winked as he turned his back to me, heading into the pulsating mass of people on the dancefloor. 

I watched intently as he made his way through the crowd, trying to keep him in my sights. He seemed to know many people, greeting them with a laugh and a clap on the shoulder, and others began to gather at his position; it was as if the entire club started to revolve around him, like he had his own gravitational pull. I could feel it too, calling me in. He couldn't get away with saying something like that and then just leaving. I downed the rest of my drink and got up from the stool, any and all restraints on my behavior broken. Alcohol tended to do that.

People may have protested as I pushed and shoved my way to the center but I didn’t care. When I found my target, he was laughing at Bela grinding up on him from behind while Solana looked at the ceiling with her hands outstretched. As soon as Bela noticed me, she stopped dancing and clutched Hawke tightly against her, peering over his shoulder. Two pairs of brown eyes were boring into me, and suddenly I regretted my recklessness. 

“Fen! We were just talking about you!” Bela grinned, and it appeared as though she was massaging Hawke’s bicep as she spoke, not that he minded.

Fuck. What were they saying.

“Didn’t take you for a snorer, really,” Hawke had a smug look on his face, “And that deep dark secret of yours? Shocking really. She told me everything.”

“She did?” I felt numb. 

“Of course! It was you, in the dining hall with the candlestick! The police will be delighted!”

I hid my face in my hands and let out a deep sigh, which caused both Bela and Hawke to laugh, but for entirely different reasons. Bela released her grip on the man and sauntered over to me, grabbing me by my arm and bringing her lips to my ear.

“You know I’d never betray you sweet thing,” she drew back and smiled at me genuinely, seriously, before the “free spirit” look returned to her face and she spoke up, “I’ve got goodies! Solana’s already had one and Hawke’s still being a nark, so there’s extra for you if you want.”

Bela reached into her cleavage and produced a tiny ziplock bag with three pink pills inside. Normally I’d decline unless we were safe at home, but I was past the point of making logical decisions. I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out, and Bela squealed with delight, removing a pill from the bag and placing it on my tongue with her finger. She helped herself to one and turned back to Hawke, who was staring right at me. I stepped forward and reached out for him, grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck and yanking his face down to my level. His mouth opened to let out a yelp and I took this opportunity to press my mouth against his. 

At first he was shocked, his mouth firm against mine, but as I pushed my tongue against his own, he realized what I was doing, his lips relaxed, and he accepted the pill being transferred. I pulled back slowly, still gripping his hair, a string of spit connecting our wet lips. I met his eyes with my own and found them heavy lidded, his pupils dilated. Without breaking eye contact, I released him from my grasp and send him stumbling back in shock.

Quickly I turned back to Bela, snatching the baggie from her hands and taking the final pill for myself before shoving the empty ziplock into my back pocket. Someone let out a low whistle behind me, probably Solana.

“Well now I’m just wet,” Bela gasped, “Andraste’s tit’s babe exactly how much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Not enough,” I replied, feeling the dry pill slide down my throat. I slid my hand under Bela’s back and dipped her over my knee dramatically, “Now, let’s party.”

The next few hours were a blur until the chemicals wore off and I finally began to feel the effects of not eating or drinking anything besides alcohol the whole night. Hawke was surprisingly lucid, managing to corral the four of us out of the club and into a taxi. I was sobering up enough after we dropped Solana and Bela off at Solana’s apartment complex in Lowtown that I noticed how close we were to Hawke’s flat. He insisted on making sure I got home safely, but I was stubborn and I think he was still slightly afraid of me after what I’d done in the club. We sat as far away as possible in the backseat, the empty space between us more telling to the driver than anything we could have said. I could see him raise his eyebrows as we argued about who would make sure the other got home, but a quick glare from me kept his prying eyes away from us for the rest of the drive. 

As we walked up the stairs above the Hanged Man in silence, I couldn’t help but think upon my actions, starting at the Rose, and then the Emporium. I’d messed up badly, something I was used to, but I’d wanted so hard to change. We reached the door and Hawke fumbled with the key for a while, before the door opened and I was face to face with the elephant in the room. 

He was tall, about the same height as Hawke, but willowy and thin with gaunt cheeks and a broad, hooked nose. His blonde hair was tied back away from his face and wisps of it were clinging to his pale skin, sticky with sweat. He looked tired too, with dark circles to rival my own, and bloodshot eyes. After rushing forward and throwing himself into Hawke’s arms, he peered over his fiancee’s shoulder to look at me. There was a coldness that seemed strange for such warm colored irises. He pulled back from Hawke and assessed his health and, I guessed, general sobriety.

“Where have you been I’ve been so worried about you?”

“I’m fine, love,” Hawke gently placed the other man’s hand on his own cheek, lacing his fingers with his own, “You should be asleep.”

“How can sleep when you’re not at home, not answering your phone, no texts, no voicemails, nothing to tell me where you were, I-”

He’s cut off by Hawke pressing a soft kiss against his lips, and it seems to do the trick. My stomach churned. 

“So, who is _this_?” he gazed past Hawke and motioned with his skeletal hands in my direction. My face hardened and I stood up slightly taller, not allowing myself to be demeaned by him. Hawke just laughed as usual.

“Right! Anders, this is Fenris, the lad from the bar the other night,” he was the only one smiling, “Fenris, this is Anders, my fiancee. I’ve told both of you about each other before.”

“Nice to meet you,” Anders smiled weakly, apparently put at ease by this fact, “Sorry it has to be like this. I must look something awful.”

“No, I apologize,” I swallowed, “My friend and I ran into Hawke earlier and we decided to make a night of it. I shouldn’t have kept him out this late, or early as it is now.”

“Garrett’s a grown man, he can make his own decisions,” Anders turned to his betrothed, giving him a _look_ , before saying quietly, “Have you been drinking?”

“No! No no no no,” Hawke stumbled over his words, “I swear.”

“Have you...taken anything?”

“...Yes,” Hawke admitted, still grinning sheepishly. Anders rolled his eyes, pushing Hawke past the doorway, “Get some water and go to bed, we’re going to have a talk in the morning.”

“Yes, dear,” Hawke sung, only to have a slipper thrown at him. Anders sighed and turned his attention back to me, his face a little less soft than it was before.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” it sounded practiced. That hit hard.

“It was no problem,” I replied as cordially as I could, “Once again, sorry for keeping him out like this.”

“This won’t happen again,” he uttered the statement so bluntly it took me off guard, I barely had time to register the door being slammed in my face. Stunned, I returned to the cab, giving the driver my address and once more, I was left alone with my thoughts, which got more hazy as I tried to remember them. 

“I’m never drinking again,” I muttered out loud, and the driver howled with laughter for the next three blocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a slutty drunk, and despite my own trauma I definitely act just like Fenris does here. I loved the fact that during his personal scenes at his house he'd just be drunk, all like "hey wanna hear about my trauma!!! haha!!" (same) and "oof wow you're attractive, i'm attracted to you haha" (again, same), but then immediately putting the brakes on when you're like "your feelings about your trauma are valid and also i reciprocate the attraction"  
> 


End file.
